Isadora lay in ruins—a grand city reduced to a shattered husk of its former glory. Once-proud spires and elegant arches had crumbled to ash, while the wide avenues were choked with debris and twisted metal. Thick, acrid smoke smothered the sky, painting it a murky canvas of dark clouds, intermittently lit by violent bursts of flame.

In the heart of the business district—once a vibrant hub of life and commerce—the silence was shattered by desperate screams and the relentless roar of collapsing buildings. Broken windows gaped like empty eyes, and every corner bore the scars of a nightmarish assault. Bewildered civilians wandered in a daze, haunted by the loss of a city that had once stood as a beacon of hope—a proud legacy now reduced to rubble and sorrow.

Jesse landed amid the devastation, her senses reeling at the apocalyptic scene. What startled her more than the ruined cityscape was the sight of Richie, Toni, Jasmine, and Mya gathered in the main street, their eyes fixed on enormous digital displays looming overhead like omniscient sentinels.

Across those screens, live images flashed relentlessly. To Jesse's horror, Matthew's face—and then those of Toni, Richie, and even her own—appeared alongside bold, damning headlines. They were labeled traitors to the crown, fugitives on the run, and murderers wanted for the deaths of the royal elite. The accusation hit her like a sledgehammer, leaving her mouth agape in disbelief. What the hell was going on?

The news feed shifted abruptly, flashing first the faces of the dead and the castrophe of the city before zeroing in on Matthew as their leader who brought the war on them—and then, chillingly, on footage of herself, Toni, and Richie unleashing the raw power of the crystals on the city just an hour earlier.

Jesse's stomach churned as the harsh reality sank in—while they had been out clearing the streets and protecting the innocent, covert reporters had been filming their every move. That footage was then twisted and weaponized to paint them as villains, as though they were the very ones inflicting harm. She could only assume that the board—and Rylan—had orchestrated this manipulation of the narrative. The ground seemed to shift beneath her feet as the undeniable truth of their situation crashed down upon her, leaving no room for denial.

They were being charged with war crimes.

Had the world gone mad? Had they been thrust into an alternate reality where they were nothing but monsters?

"What the fuck?" Richie breathed, his voice laced with incredulous despair. "We just saved the fucking world, and now they're hunting us down?"

"We need to go," Toni barked amid the chaos, his eyes darting over the group as panic set in. The streets teemed with civilians—faces hollow with terror, all fixated on the massive screens overhead that had just sealed their fates.

Richie turned to Mya, his tone urgent. "Flick, go with Jasmine—head back home, pack what you can, and grab Mac. I'll be there in five minutes."

Without another word, Mya nodded, and Jasmine reached for her hand. Together, they slipped away into the storm.

Jesse muttered under her breath, "I need to get to the office and wipe everything. They're gonna come after us with this." And just like that, she vanished into the tempest.

Toni glared at Richie, his voice thick with incredulity. "It's Rylan and the fucking board—they weren't fucking joking."

Richie shook his head, his eyes clouded with deep worry and sorrow. "Where do we go? What's safe?" he asked, his tone raw with genuine fear. "The academies will turn on us—you know the protocols." He turned to Toni. "You and Jesse know Matthew's contingency plans better than anyone."

Toni fixed his gaze on him and responded with firm resolve, "Up north—to Spear. We grab what we can, then we run. We wait until this all blows over, because it's gonna spark a fucking war, and that's the last thing we need right now."

Richie clenched his jaw, frustration darkening his eyes as he gave a stiff, reluctant nod. "Yeah," he muttered bitterly, "I fucking hate this. I really don't have a good feeling about it."

"Neither do I," Toni snapped back, tension radiating from every inch of him. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes flickering with anxiety. "Go home, get Jaz, Mya, and Mac ready to move. I'll head to Spear's and make sure we're not walking into an ambush."

Richie stepped closer, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "That's all fine, Toni," he begun but his tone was harsh and desperate, "but we need to address the goddamn elephant in the room. Eko is the fucking princess—and your mate! When he goes off the rails, you've seen what he becomes. On a scale from one to ten, we're already at a fucking twenty with him. Jesus, you and I both saw him blow up a planet!"

Toni pinched his nose dismissively. "It's fine."

"FINE!" Richie roared, his mouth dropping open in disbelief. "Has he done this before?"

"It's not that dramatic," Toni offered, shrugging. "It happens—like I said, it's fine."

"TONI, FUCKING HELL, YOU'RE ENABLING HIM! HE'S A FUCKING TICKING TIME BOMB!" Richie spat, his voice raw with desperation as his eyes flickered back toward the blaring screens. There, their faces—flashed repeatedly alongside accusatory labels like war criminals and traitors to the crown—taunted him with each passing moment.

Taking another shaky breath, Richie shook his head, "Get patched up and find him before he goes off the fucking rails," before disappearing into the chaos—leaving Toni alone with the weight of their shattered world.

A grim silence descended as Toni's gaze swept over the civilians, their faces etched with terror and silent accusations. In that moment, as he struggled to grasp the imminent collapse of everything they once knew, he realized that stopping now was simply not an option.

The collision of their destinies was inevitable. As the flames of the old world began to flicker and die, a new inferno loomed on the horizon—one poised to devour every lie and betrayal in its relentless, fiery embrace.

****9.28AM *****

In the chaos of the office, Jesse frantically scrambled to find and gather any remaining documents and data that scattered the floor and office —a violent storm left behind by whoever had been there before her. She had been rifling through scattered papers trying to understand what they, whoever was here in, was looking for, screens were left on and then she pivoted to Matthew's desk as she went purging through the files to find the documents that were kept secure and on record from Teddy, praying fervently that he'd erased them when they were raided by the board.

Before she could salvage anything, Teddy burst through the doors. With one powerful swing, he slammed the panels and forced the doors shut, plunging the room into a suffocating silence. Panting, he fixed his gaze on her. "You need to leave," he barked, urgency etched into every syllable as he tapped frantically at the main tablet to secure the room further.

Teddy's eyes swept over the office—a space once meticulously organized now reduced to chaos. Every trace of Eko's life had been erased: photos ripped from frames, cherished mementos vanished, and all familiar comforts reduced to rubble. He knew the board had been there, stripping away every scrap that even hinted at the life she once led, all to craft a narrative that they could present to the world.

"What's going on?!" Jesse snapped, her eyes wide as she searched his face for answers.

"They're cleaning house!" Teddy replied in a low, tremulous voice. "They bombarded my office, and the palace guards—ordered by the board—told me to stand down, or else I'll be branded a traitor to the crown."

Jesse swallowed hard, a knot of fear tightening in her gut. "W-what?" she stammered.

"They demanded the keylock codes for your files," Teddy said, his tone firm and resolute.

Jesse's face drained of color, and her breath caught in a sharp intake of shock. "No... Teddy," she whispered, her voice trembling with raw fear. "You wrote notes about us from our sessions. If that information ever got out... it would d-destroy us."

"I know," Teddy replied quietly, raising his hands in a feeble, resigned gesture.

The reality of the board's intrusion hit her like a tidal wave. Overwhelmed, her breathing grew ragged, and her chest tightened as she struggled to process the violation of their privacy. In a burst of raw frustration, she seized the nearest lamp and hurled it against the wall, its crash echoing through the ruined office as her scream of rage tore through the silence.

"Jesse, you need to go," Teddy urged urgently, his voice laced with alarm. "They've got everything they need to condemn all of you. Have you seen the news?"

"HAVE I SEEN THE NEWS?!" Jesse roared back, her voice cracking with fury. "They're calling us war criminals! Traitors to the crown, Teddy!"

Before Teddy could respond, frantic banging on the door and the relentless beeps of the alert system filled the room, demanding access codes.

"Go!" Teddy hissed, gesturing sharply toward the hallway and the adjoining bedroom. Without hesitation, Jesse bolted out of the office, racing down the corridor. She burst into Matthew and Eko's room—and then froze. The space was in utter disarray: picture frames lay shattered on the floor with their images missing, the bed was ravaged and stripped bare, and the walk-in closet had been ransacked, drawers left open as if every trace of Eko's presence had been deliberately erased.

"I will ask you again," a soldier demanded, his tone harsh and unyielding, "the royal court is taking control. You have your orders, Doctor."

"I was just cleaning for the headmaster's return," came a strained reply, heavy with dismay. "This is unacceptable for his arrival."

Then another voice, cold and unyielding, cut through the chaos: "The headmaster is no longer serving at this institute—he's been stripped of his command and is detained and sedated at Mecotec until his trial begins."

Jesse's heart pounded as the news struck her like a sledgehammer. Before she could even process it, Teddy's voice sliced through the mounting tension. "Sedated? Trial for what?!" he demanded.

A chorus of accusatory voices erupted next, each word dripping with bitter contempt. "For the endangerment and kidnapping of the future queen of Isadora; for orchestrating the assassination of the royal crown; for the massacre at the orphanages—where countless innocent caretakers and children were ruthlessly slaughtered."

The second man interjected shortly thereafter, his tone icy and accusatory. "He will be tried for abuse, torture, and reckless acts against the crown. Our files confirm every single allegation—just as your records have proven, Doctor."

Teddy snapped back sharply, "Those sealed records you forced me to release are protected by patient and doctor confidentiality agreements meant to safeguard soldiers suffering from severe PTSD. They were never meant to be used as weapons in a witch hunt against our own people."

The first man then spoke up, his voice dripping with disdain, "Considering his alternate disguise as Ace—Matthew Skarsgard—coupled with his board position, his unyielding control over Allegiant, and his role as principal of the academies. He is accused of orchestrating a coup to overthrow the Crown and seize power by unspeakable means. He is not merely a criminal; he is a twisted, depraved monster, capable of atrocities that defy all moral boundaries. In the eyes of God's people, he is condemned as nothing less than a war criminal!"

At those words, Jesse's heart pounded in her chest, her magic coalescing around her like a desperate shield. Panic and determination warred within her as she realized with a jolt that she had to find Toni and Richie—and they had to get Matthew, and fast. The world around her was unraveling, and every heartbeat pulsed with the urgent promise of a future that had suddenly turned against them.

***** *****

Mya scrambled to pack, her breathing labored as her airways struggled to heal. The duffel bag lay open on the bed, and she frantically shoved clothes inside, her mind racing with the implications of everything that had happened. Fear gripped her—each knock on the door might signal the arrival of the very hunters who now stalked them, and with her powers drained, she felt utterly defenseless, unable to protect herself or her daughter.

"Mummy, can I pack Daisy? Can she come?" Mackenzie asked, holding up her cherished stuffed doll.

Mya managed a weak nod, tugging gently at Mackenzie's face, silently pleading for something to help her calm her own nerves as her own resolve wavered. She finished packing the duffel bag, slinging it over her shoulder, and then grabbed a smaller bag filled with her daughter's belongings. Mackenzie clutched her doll and her favorite blanket, and together they hurried out of the room and into the dim, ruined hallways, searching for Jasmine.

As they moved through the corridor, Mya passed by soldiers whose eyes followed her every move—some filled with concern, others with thinly veiled suspicion. Turning a corner, she collided with Sawyer, who instinctively grabbed her shoulders to steady her and prevent a fall.

Mya's eyes widened in alarm as Sawyer's hands remained on her shoulders. He leaned in, his voice husky with worry, "Jesus, Mya, what happened? Did he do this to you?"

Mortified, Mya quickly shook her head, desperate to form words, but nothing came out. At that moment, Mackenzie stepped forward with a bright smile, her innocence cutting through the tension.

"Sawyer, we're going on a big holiday!" she beamed. "Me, Mommy, and Daddy, and Daisy!"

"What? No?" Sawyer's eyes widened in terror as he looked at Mya.

"He's one of them, Mya. Come on!" Sawyer blurted, struggling to keep his emotions in check. "Is this how he turned you against me? Was he threatening you to go back to him, huh? I can't believe this!"

Mya shook her head violently, struggling to break free as Sawyer's grip clamped tightly around her shoulders.

"No, Mya," he growled, his tone bitter. "Isn't this their pattern? Richie threatened you—and that's exactly what Matthew did to the princess! A bunch of self-absorbed, fucking pricks, treating women like disposable pawns! You're better than this!"

Mya tried to protest, but no words came—her brows knitted in furious disbelief as she violently shook her head. In a desperate burst of defiance, she clenched her fist and slammed it against Sawyer's chest, her eyes darting between his and his, silently pleading him to understand.

Before Sawyer could respond, Mackenzie's bright voice shattered the tension.

"Daddy!" Mackenzie cried, her face lighting up as she broke free from Mya's grasp and raced toward Richie. Jasmine, her backpack hanging loosely over one shoulder, exchanged a worried glance with Richie as Mackenzie leapt into his arms. Richie hoisted her up, pulling her close.

"We gotta go, toots," Richie said urgently, his tone resolute as he cradled Mackenzie protectively.

"Are we really going on a holiday, Daddy?" Mackenzie asked, glancing up at Richie and then at Jasmine, who offered a small, reassuring wink.

None of them expected the sudden, deafening alarms that rocked Allegiant, as the hallway holograms burst to life with urgent alerts. The screens flashed the same damning messages they had just seen in Isadora—Matthew's face, followed by those of Toni, Richie, and Jesse—each one registered and branded as a traitor and war criminal to the crown.

"Daddy, why are you and Uncle Mattie and Richie and Jesse up there?" Mackenzie stammered, pointing at the holographic screens. "What does 'criminal' even mean?"

"Shit," muttered Jasmine, her voice barely audible, before Sawyer's voice thundered through the chaos.

"Look at what he is!" Sawyer bellowed, gesturing emphatically at the displays. "You and Mac shouldn't be stuck with this! You're in danger with him!"

Richie then marched forward, his eyes burning with a mixture of fury and disbelief. Jasmine froze in place, and instinctively, she turned around when voices began to surge from behind. The board had swarmed in, and amidst the confusion, Richie shoved Sawyer back while Mya grabbed Mackenzie, pulling her away.

"I have a right mind to deck you right where you're standing! You have no fucking concept on what is happening right now!" Richie roared

"And I'm not the one whose face is splashed across every media outlet as a wanted war criminal!" Sawyer yelled back, his voice rising in pitch. "It says here that you four killed the royal board—accused of crimes against the crown—and now you're trying to drag the people I love out of here while you're on the run!"

Richie's brows furrowed as he locked eyes with Sawyer, the tension between them crackling in the air.

Then chaos erupted behind them as the board members swarmed in. Some of the Allegiant soldiers, caught off guard, stood there utterly confused by the sudden shift in power.

"Richie Luciano Hendricks," a board member began, his tone icy and formal, "you are wanted for the war crimes of the crown—for the abduction of the royal queen and for crimes against humanity committed against the royal court."

Richie's face paled further, and he swallowed hard. The situation was deteriorating faster than anyone could have anticipated.

Mya stepped forward as the room slowly closed in around them, her heart pounding in her ears. In that tense moment, she reached out and took his hand. He looked at her, and she could see the unbearable choice written across his eyes.

"Sorry, Flick," he whispered, his voice cracking with regret. Mya's eyes darted between his, desperate for some solace or explanation, but no words came.

"I don't know what this is about to turn into," he continued, his tone hoarse, "but you can't come with me."

Mya squeezed his hand as if her very life depended on it, tears streaming down her face while she shook her head frantically.

"Flick, Mackenzie can't be on the run—both her parents can't be fugitives," he pleaded, his voice trembling with raw determination despite the terror clawing at him.

"Please, there must be some mistake," Jasmine tried to interject, her tone soft and pleading, hoping to ease the crushing blow of their reality—a reality where they intended to take Richie into custody—forgetting entirely about Mya or Jasmine.

Then, in the midst of the chaos, Mackenzie's small voice pierced through. "Daddy? Daddy, daddy!?" she cried, her innocent tone filled with confusion.

Richie pulled his hand from Mya's grasp, and as she lunged to regrab it, he stepped back, leaving her exposed.

Sawyer then advanced, his tone ice-cold and accusatory. "You've made a mess of her life," he snarled at Richie. "Go."

Jasmine moved quickly to hold Mya back as the board and soldiers swarmed around them. Mya tried to push forward, desperate to reach Richie, but Jasmine's grip held tight—everyone knew that if anyone sensed her powers now, they'd be hunted down without mercy.

"I will keep her safe," Sawyer declared, his eyes hard and unyielding as he glared at Richie. "She's safe with me—and so is Mac."

Desperation turned to anguish in Mya's rasping voice as she tried to speak.

"Daddy?" Mackenzie cried again, her tender tone laced with confusion too deep for her young mind. She felt the weight of everything pressing down on her, the heaviness of a family torn apart.

Then Richie's face flashed in her memory—the three words she both craved and dreaded: "I love you." The declaration shattered her heart, a bittersweet echo of a love that once was. In that moment, as his powers surged uncontrollably around him and with the soldiers' shouting commands from the royal board ringing in the air, Richie vanished.

Mya stood there, her bags clutched tightly as her daughter wept for the father who had once been their steadfast rock. The crushing realization hit her like a tidal wave—he had left her. He had abandoned her when they were meant to be a family, leaving her and Mackenzie alone in a world seemingly determined to strip away every last remnant of hope. All she ever wanted was to rebuild that family, to hold onto the love they once shared. But every time hardship arose, he vanished—doubting her strength, refusing to trust that she was his true partner in this fight. Once again, he had left her and Mackenzie to face the world alone, when all she had ever craved was his unwavering presence and the promise to stay, no matter what.

As the soldiers and board members dispersed immediately to try to find him into the chaos, Jasmine reached out and grabbed Mya—who stood there nearly comatose, her eyes empty with exhaustion as she fought to keep from breaking down. The overwhelming weight of loss and betrayal had drained every ounce of her emotional strength.

Then Sawyer stepped forward, his face hard and his voice bitter as he pressed his hands onto her shoulders. "I told you he would leave, Mya. When things get hard, he just abandons you—that's what he does best," he snarled.

In that moment, Mya's frustration and despair boiled over. With a cry of raw, defiant pain, she turned on Sawyer and slammed her fist into his face. Without pausing, she pivoted on her heel, snatched up the scattered bags from the floor, and grabbed Jasmine's hand tightly. Determined and broken, they marched onward into the uncertainty, leaving behind a world that had betrayed them.

****** *****

Dr. Keaton scrubbed his hands furiously, the scalding water searing away fragments of guilt that clung to him like a second skin. Through the surgical theater's window, he watched Matthew's pale, vulnerable form lie on the operating table—entangled in a web of tubes and wires, with a ventilator mechanically forcing shallow breaths into his failing lungs as monitors beeped in a relentless, harsh rhythm.

Suddenly, the doors burst open with a violent crash. Rylan stormed in, flanked by an armed guard and a grim, weathered board member. His cold gaze immediately fixed on Matthew, and his lips twisted in disgust.

"He's alive, I presume?" Rylan demanded, his voice slicing through the tension as he scrutinized the scene through the glass, watching nurses tend to Matthew's unconscious form.

"Yes," Keaton replied tersely, his jaw tightening with grim determination. "But he faces a long, uncertain recovery. He needs constant supervision before any trial can be even considered."

Rylan advanced aggressively. "Did you administer the Androcelin as ordered?"

Keaton spat out his response defiantly. "No. I've told you repeatedly—I refuse to perform that irreversible procedure. The implants were designed to prevent exactly this barbaric practice of forced sterilization. You have no right—"

"He's raped our Queen," Rylan interjected, his face contorting with disgust. "She conceived a child because of this creature."

Keaton's expression fell, shock and disbelief etched across his face. "Sera's pregnant?" he managed.

Rylan shook his head sharply. "No—she terminated it. Regardless that's not your concern; you're not a member of the royal court, nor are you privy to matters within Her Highness's inner circle."

Before Keaton could press further, Rylan's tone turned mercilessly cold. "The only thing you should worry about, Doctor, is that the board has unanimously decided—given what our Queen endured, he must be neutralized permanently. Forced sterilization might seem barbaric to you, but right now it is mercy. And make no mistake—even if the Allegiant board disagrees, the royal court has decreed that he will stand trial and receive the punishment he truly deserves for what he did to our Queen."

Keaton's eyes flashed with outrage. "First of all, there was no rape, no violence!" he countered fiercely. "Secondly, he is legally married to our future Queen—which, in turn, makes him our King. What you're doing here will have severe repercussions for you and the entire court when the Queen hears about this. They are in a relationship, and you have sedated her husband and are about to take irreversible action based on completely false information!"

"Doctor," Rylan interrupted, his voice measured and chilling as he sneered, "the facts don't lie. Matthew Skarsgard knowingly concealed her identity, held her captive, married her under false pretenses, and exploited her position to elevate himself. The courts are already moving to annul their marriage. Given the danger he poses—the abuse of the crystal, the violation of our Queen—sterilization and sedation are not just necessary; they are imperative. If it were up to me, he would be executed right here on the operating table."

Keaton stepped forward and blocked the door. "You will not go near him," he barked. "Turn around and go find Sera. I assure you, she will set things right."

Rylan cut in sharply, his voice dripping with icy authority. "It is Her Highness—the Queen, not some casual nickname—and she has suffered unimaginable trauma. What do you fail to see?" His tone was a razor, and as he stepped forward with an oppressive, unwavering presence, he fixed Keaton with a glare that dared him to defy his command. "She made the decision herself—to terminate the child she was carrying. Her mental state is fragile, and it is our duty to shield her from threats like him. Our Queen has declared that we take every possible action to ensure that this monster harms no one else. So again, Doctor, on Her Highness's order, administer the Androcelin now. Do it, or face the consequences."

Keaton squared his shoulders, defiance flaring as he met Rylan's frostbitten stare. "No. She would never— and I want to hear her for myself! Something is wrong here!"

Rylan's response was swift and ruthless. He snatched a guard's pistol and leveled it at Keaton's chest. "You misunderstand the direct order, Doctor. Administer the Androcelin—now. I will not ask twice."

Keaton's jaw tightened as he stared down the barrel. "Then you'll have to shoot me. I refuse."

Rylan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "So be it." With a mocking sigh, he abruptly aimed lower and pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang out violently, echoing down the sterile corridors as blood burst from Keaton's thigh, sending him crashing to the floor with a pained howl.

Ignoring Keaton's groans, Rylan strode over his writhing form and stormed into the operating theatre, pistol raised ominously. Nurses and medical assistants froze, their faces etched with shock and fear.

"Where is the Androcelin?" barked an older board member, his voice slicing through the tense silence.

A surgeon glanced nervously between Rylan and the board member, his voice trembling as he stammered, "We were explicitly instructed—this procedure was to be delayed until after the trial, after the Queen was informed—"

Before the surgeon could finish, another gunshot thundered through the room. The poor man's head snapped back in a grotesque arc as blood and brain matter splattered across the sterile walls. His body crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

Screams erupted around the room, and panic surged through the medical team like wildfire. Rylan swung the bloodied pistol toward the remaining staff, his voice dangerously low and laden with menace. "Anyone else want to question me?" he snarled.

The lead nurse, her hands shaking and eyes wide with terror, rushed to the far side of the theater. Clad in dark blue scrubs that contrasted starkly with her pale, fear-stricken face, she fumbled with an injection device, hastily assembling it while securing a vial containing the Androcelin.

She turned to offer it to Rylan, but an older board member stepped forward with cold impatience, snatching the vial from her trembling hands. His expression was emotionless as he approached Matthew's unconscious form on the operating table.

With clinical precision, the board member grabbed a band, wrapping it tightly around Matthew's arm until a vein stood out. He tapped the vein methodically, then, in one deliberate motion, injected the vial's contents directly into Matthew's bloodstream. The tension in the room grew palpable, every eye fixed on the unfolding scene. An oppressive silence dominated, punctuated only by the faint, rhythmic beep of monitors and the labored, mechanical breaths of the machine that kept the man suspended between life and death.

Afterward, the board member withdrew the needle and discarded the empty injector onto the sterile tray with a sharp metallic clang—a sound that echoed like a death sentence. He stepped back in silence, face void of empathy, the cold satisfaction in his eyes betraying just how deeply he believed in the cruelty of what they had done. His gaze flicked to Rylan, who gave a slow, approving nod.

"Good," Rylan said with detached finality. "That part's done."

Lowering his weapon with calculated ease, Rylan turned to scan the trembling medical staff. His expression was unreadable—somewhere between superiority and disdain. "Let this be clear," he said, voice clipped and cruel, "we will not allow another monster like him to lay a finger on our Queen again. Not now. Not ever."

Then, without another word, Rylan turned abruptly and strode out, leaving the staff paralyzed with terror.

In the adjoining room, Dr. Keaton slumped against a blood-smeared wall, blood pooling around him from a brutal wound inflicted minutes before. Pale and gasping, he leaned heavily as his chest heaved with ragged breaths, his face twisted in pain and seething anger.'

Keaton's eyes flared with desperate fury as he spat, "Rylan, you've lost your mind—and she will have your head for this," his voice weak but laden with indignation.

Rylan paused mid-stride, then turned slowly, a faint glimmer of cruel amusement in his eyes. "No," he said coldly, ""We're protecting our future Queen from vile creatures like him. When this is all over, Skarsgard will be exiled—and he will never be allowed to harm another living soul or wield such dangerous power, nor will be allowed to keep possession of such a dangerous artifact in existence to a reckless, self-destructive child. A new world is dawning, Keaton, and I'm determined that monsters like him have no place in it."

Without another word, Rylan strode out, leaving a suffocating silence in his wake.

Keaton's head slumped against the wall, breaths grew shallow and ragged. His mind spiraled into despair, knowing this decision would ignite a devastating reaction.

******9.40AM *****

Jesse burst into Spear's office, her fading magic trailing behind her in a shower of anxious sparks. Toni and Spear, their eyes still glued to the holographic news feed that painted a grim picture of unfolding chaos, turned to her with heavy concern.

Toni, cradling his newly bandaged hand and sporting a face slightly healed from past scars, lowered his voice. "Matthew hasn't been here yet. Was he at Allegiant?" His worry deepened with each passing second.

Jesse shook her head, her eyes dark with distress as she fought for the right words. Sensing her inner turmoil, Toni and Spear moved closer.

"What is it, Jesse?" Spear asked softly, tugging a few stubborn vivid red locks from his forehead as he searched her face for answers. Her behavior was far from normal.

"I was just at Allegiant," Jesse began, her voice quivering. "Teddy said they're cleaning house—they even took the keylock codes to our files. The board... they're upending everything. They've detained Matthew at Mecotec, and they've even sedated him. Toni... I—I don't understand how this happened. Matthew wouldn't willingly hand himself over!"

Toni's breath caught in his throat as the weight of her words sank in. His mind reeled with the implications.

"What the fuck do you mean he's sedated?!" Spear roared, his voice thick with fury. "How the hell can they sedate him? No fucking way!"

Toni ran his hands through his hair, his eyes a warzone of exasperation and fear. "We need to go, now," he said urgently. "When Richie shows up, tell him to follow us if we're not back in twenty minutes."

Spear nodded grimly. In a heartbeat, Jesse and Toni disappeared from the room, leaving only the echo of their swift exit in the tense silence.

*****9.55AM *****

Toni and Jesse burst into the small office, their sudden presence electrifying the space. Keaton flinched, his eyes snapping up from the scattered paperwork he'd been frantically rearranging—a vain attempt to keep his trembling hands busy. Barely an hour had passed since the horrific confrontation, yet guilt and dread had already hollowed him from within.

"Thank the heavens," he whispered hoarsely, his voice strained and quivering. Gripping his crutch with urgency, a sharp grimace crossing his features, he pushed himself upright.

Jesse stepped forward immediately, concern etching her brow. "What happened to you?"

"Repercussions," Keaton dismissed tersely, his expression momentarily flickering with pain as he tightened his grip on the crutch. "We don't have time."

He reached for a hanger holding spare coats and barked, "Put these on now! Keep your heads down—this place is crawling with royal guards. I just need to get you to him."
Then, without missing a beat, he rifled through a nearby drawer and tossed Jesse a surgical mask and hairnet. "Cover your face. Pull your hair up. You," he said to Toni, flinging a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and a scrub cap at him, "look like you've been through hell—at least try to look like hospital staff and not a wanted terrorist."

He shoved a clipboard into Toni's hands. "Walk like you're doing rounds—and for the love of God, don't talk to anyone unless you want a bullet between the eyes."

Exchanging tense, worried glances, Jesse and Toni quickly threw on the doctor's white coats, scrambling to tidy themselves up so they didn't look like train wrecks, and then followed Keaton out of the cramped office into the bustling halls.

The corridor buzzed with people, too absorbed in their own chaos to notice the trio—a perfect cover for Keaton to guide Toni and Jesse through the disarray toward the ICU.

As they moved, Toni stole a glance at Jesse, who was hastily tucking her red hair behind her ears to avoid drawing unwanted attention. It wasn't long before they noticed that the usual doctors and nurses had been replaced by armed guards—a stark reminder that the stakes were higher than ever.

At the ICU entrance, Keaton announced, "I need to do a check-up."

A guard interjected sharply, "You were here fifteen minutes ago—he's sedated. That piece of scum doesn't need monitoring, Doc."

Toni's hand clenched beneath his robe at the remark. Keaton's eyes narrowed with controlled anger as he snapped, "he's a war criminal, and you want to tell Rylan you let him die on your watch rather than face trial in court? Now step aside and let me do my job.

The guard tsked as another pushed the keyboard aside to open the door. With his head held high, Keaton strode inside, followed closely by Toni and Jesse. But as they crossed the threshold and the doors slid shut behind them, Toni and Jesse came to a sudden halt at the harrowing sight before them.

Matthew lay motionless beneath the harsh glare of clinical lights—a battered, broken testament to the horrors he'd endured. An angry, swollen gash stretched from his collarbone to his abdomen, stitched together with coarse, vivid threads that barely concealed the carnage beneath. Dirt and dried blood marred his skin like a morbid tapestry of suffering, while raw wounds wept continuously, staining the once-pristine white sheets. An intrusive breathing tube forced his chest to rise and fall in a mechanical, unnerving rhythm.

Jesse gasped sharply, a strangled sob catching in her throat as tears welled uncontrollably. Desperation drove her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the raw grief surging within her. Beside her, Toni stood frozen—his face drained of color—as he stared in horror at the devastation that had befallen the man he regarded as his own brother.

Breaking free from her paralysis, Jesse tore off her face mask and hair net, letting them fall in a tangled heap beside her, then lunged forward. She deftly navigated the maze of tubes and cables, rage igniting in her as she spotted Matthew's wrists shackled to the bed. The cold, metal cuffs bit into his skin, leaving dark, brutal bruises, each marking the cruelty of his captivity. Her trembling fingers reached out, desperate to feel the rough metal and gauge how tightly they held him.

Then, Keaton's voice cut through the suffocating silence—urgent, desperate. "We have to hurry—this place isn't safe."

In that instant, Toni snapped from his daze, his fists clenching with raw fury as he roared, "What the hell happened?!" His eyes blazed with both anger and fear, demanding an answer amid the chaos.

Jesse's hands trembled violently as she worked to free Matthew, each metallic clink of the chains echoing painfully through the sterile air. "Hey, Mattie, wake up," she pleaded in a voice barely audible and cracking with emotion as she gently shook him while moving to the next chain. The cuffs had already bitten deep into his skin and she hated the bruising that was already there because of it. "Come on, please wake up."

"We have to get him out now," Keaton urged again, his tone thick with desperation. "There's no telling what they'll do next."

Toni's frustration boiled over as he gestured wildly toward Matthew. "Who will do what next, Keaton? And why the fuck is he sedated?"

"He turned up here," Keaton said, his eyes darting nervously between Toni and Jesse before continuing. "He must have known his heart was failing. I confirmed that his Brugada syndrome returned—likely triggered when the crystals overloaded his system—and that's when he went into cardiac arrest. We had no choice—we had to reimplant the ICD."

A choked sob escaped Jesse as she stared at Matthew's battered form, desperately searching for any sign of consciousness. Her fingers brushed gently through his matted hair her whispered voice trembling like a prayer, "God, Mattie... Jesus Christ."

Dr. Keaton hobbled forward, his injured leg no match for his urgency, and reached the bedside. With practiced precision, his hands moved quickly to unhook the ventilator and remove the breathing tube from Matthew's throat. A weak, ragged cough from Matthew shattered the tense silence, causing Jesse's breath to hitch painfully.

"Rylan and the board will stop at nothing to destroy all of you," Keaton explained urgently, his voice heavy with dread. "Keeping Matthew sedated here was the only way I could protect him—at least under my care, I could delay the royal court from getting their hands on him until one of you arrived."

Jesse's grip tightened protectively around Matthew's face as she drew him closer, her embrace mixing fierce determination with tender desperation.

Toni's eyes flickered anxiously between Jesse's desperate hold and Keaton's grim expression, worry etched in every line of his face. "What do we do now?" he asked in a barely audible whisper.

Keaton set his jaw, his gaze steady with resolute determination. "They fear him—fear everything he's capable of. They fear all of you," he said gravely. "You must leave immediately before things escalate further. Do you have somewhere safe to go?"

"Up north—with Spear," Jesse answered softly, her voice trembling as she reluctantly pulled away, tears silently trailing down her cheeks.

Dr. Keaton fixed his gaze on Toni, his tone laced with concern. "And can you trust him?"

Toni offered a curt, confident nod. "Yeah. We've all known him for ages. He's always been our contingency plan. He knows who we are—he'll keep us safe."

"Good," Keaton said firmly, his voice heavy with necessity. "Take Matthew to him. I don't need to remind you how critical these first twenty-four hours are. We must ensure he receives proper aftercare."

A sudden, weak groan from Matthew shattered the tense silence, a raw jolt of agony that underscored the gravity of their situation. Dr. Keaton quickly reached into his pocket and produced a small crystal, its surface shimmering softly under the harsh clinical lights.

"He taught me how to remove this," Keaton said quietly as he handed the crystal to Toni. "Matthew still has the other one, but if they took it from him, at least he'd have a spare to keep his condition stable." Keaton explained quietly as he handed the crystal to Toni. "Matthew can't risk using two crystals at once—his heart won't survive it, we have just tested that theory now."

Toni accepted the crystal, his eyes hardening with grim determination as he nodded solemnly at Keaton. At that moment, Jesse's voice cracked through the tension, raw with fear: "Toni, we need to go—now!"

Matthew groaned again, louder and more anguished, a sound that reverberated with the torment coursing through his battered body.

"I know, mate, I know," Toni murmured, his voice heavy with worry as he carefully slid to the side of the bed. With deliberate gentleness, he hoisted Matthew's limp arm over his shoulder while Jesse stepped forward, her resolve unwavering despite the terror that gripped her. She supported Matthew's weakened legs as Toni began to pull him upright. Every cautious movement was fraught with risk—yet they had no choice, not when the board was hell-bent on hunting them down.

Amid the chaos, Matthew's eyelids fluttered weakly, parting just enough to reveal eyes clouded with confusion and agony. His breathing was shallow and uneven, each labored inhale a desperate struggle against the suffocating weight of his despair. At the periphery of his vision, ghostly images drifted—most haunting of all, the fragile silhouette of Eko. It hovered like a phantom, tormenting him with every fragment of memory of what he'd lost.

"E–Eko?" Matthew's voice emerged as a broken whisper, laced with desperate longing and crushing confusion.

"Matthew, look at me," Toni urged, his voice gentle yet insistent as he grasped his friend's chin, forcing his distant gaze upward. "It's me, Toni. We need to get you moving—it's not safe here."

But Matthew was lost in a vortex of delirium, his head shaking as if in defiant protest against a reality he could no longer bear. "No... no, no, god, fuck..." he rasped, each word trembling with excruciating agony.

His anguished plea struck Toni like a shard of jagged glass, leaving him visibly shaken and momentarily speechless. Every line of Toni's face deepened with the weight of pain and guilt as he grappled with the unbearable truth before him.

"I'm so sorry," Toni finally whispered, his voice raw and choked with sorrow. "I'm so fucking sorry, Matthew." Each word fell like a death knell in the oppressive silence of the ICU.

Matthew's body convulsed violently as an anguished sob tore from him—a sound so raw and shattered it seemed something deep inside had broken beyond repair. His strength ebbed away, and with one final, ragged gasp, his eyes rolled back as unconsciousness mercifully claimed him.

Dr. Keaton stepped forward, his quiet urgency slicing through the silence. Toni and Jesse jerked their heads toward him. "There's something else you need to know before you leave. I don't know when I'll see you again, but it's crucial that you pass this on to the doctors on site," he said.

"Sure, what is it?" Jesse and Toni asked in unison, straining to absorb the vital information they needed to relay to Mya and the others when they got back to Spear's.

Keaton swallowed hard, his eyes darting between them as his voice grew hesitant and heavy with reluctant disclosure. "I'm not certain if Matthew and Eko kept this from everyone on purpose—or if they weren't even fully aware themselves. It was so early; they might not have known."

Toni's jaw tightened, and Jesse shot him a fearful, questioning look.

"What are you talking about?" Jesse whispered urgently.

Keaton took a shaky breath. "Did either of you know that Eko was pregnant?"

Jesse's breath caught painfully as Toni's expression turned ashen. "Pregnant?" Toni repeated in a hoarse whisper, his eyes wide with shock. Jesse's gaze flickered between him and Keaton before settling back on Toni. "Did you know?" he asked.

Her mouth hung open as she answered, "I joked with her this morning—she said it was impossible, with her implant and everything." Her brows furrowed turning back to Keaton. "Are you sure? How... did you even find out?"

Keaton nodded slowly, his eyes heavy with sorrow. "Unfortunately, my contacts at the palace confirmed it. According to what Rylan said, she terminated the pregnancy. I do not believe this to be true, she very well could of miscarried, however, I've only pieced together fragments of the details—everything's under tight scrutiny, with her well-being prioritized over all else."

A choked "Oh Jesus" escaped Jesse as she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, tears welling in her eyes. She turned her gaze to Matthew's battered, unconscious form lying heavily against her, her heart shattering for both him and Eko. No matter what had transpired, or what had been hidden, or how much anger followed from this fallout—this was a horror she'd never wish on anyone. She had watched Richie and Mya endure the same agony; now, she dreaded witnessing Matthew suffer it too.

Toni stood frozen, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Rage and sorrow warred on his face as he murmured, "How far along was she?"

"Four to five weeks, give or take," Keaton replied softly.

Jesse moved closer, gently brushing the sweat-slicked hair away from Matthew's bruised face. Her voice trembled with desperate urgency as she whispered, "Mattie... how are we going to tell him this, Toni?"

Dr. Keaton pressed his lips together, his posture weighed down with hesitation and anguish. "There's something else—this next detail is crucial for his health. Do you both understand me?"

"More?" Toni and Jesse echoed in unison.

Keaton hesitated 

"Fuck, I knew it... Something's really gone wrong with his heart. Jesus, what happened during surgery?" Toni snapped, panic lacing every word.

Keaton swallowed hard, guilt and sorrow mingling in his eyes. Jesse's gaze shot upward, fear and grief colliding as she pleaded, "Keaton, we don't have much time! Please, tell us—what is it?"

After a long, painful pause, Keaton forced the words out, his tone heavy with foreboding. "You both know what Androcelin does, don't you?"

"And...lin?" Jesse echoed, the word sounding foreign after all these years.

Toni's jaw tightened, his body tensing as his fists clenched with barely contained fury. "Why would we even be discussing Androcelin?" he demanded.

Keaton's eyes darkened with a mix of sorrow and grim resolve. "Rylan isn't playing games—not with any of you. They ordered me to administer the Androcelin to Matthew."

"What?" Jesse cocked her head, uncertainty flashing in her eyes. "Why? No—"

"I didn't," Dr. Keaton's gaze turned bitter as he glanced at his injured leg, the blood-soaked bandage a grim testament to his defiance. "So, Rylan shot me. Then, when one of my surgeons dared challenge him, he executed the man right there in the theatre."

Toni's mouth fell open. "Holy shit..."

Keaton's expression softened with deep pain. "I have no choice but to leave this information with you. Androcelin contains sodium channel blockers that can trigger dangerous arrhythmias. Matthew must be closely monitored—do you understand?"

"What? Woah... wait a minute?" Toni's chest heaved as he processed the gravity of the situation. "Are—are you saying they gave him the Androcelin?" he snapped, his voice raw as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of the moment.

Dr. Keaton nodded, his tone laden with regret. "Yes, I've confirmed it with blood tests. I've been coming in every fifteen minutes to check for arrhythmias."

Jesse shook her head desperately, her eyes brimming with tears as her voice emerged barely above a whisper. "Toni, we have to get him out of here—right now."

Toni's eyes blazed with accusation as he jabbed a trembling finger at Keaton. His voice, raw and unfiltered, broke with fury and betrayal. "This is all your fault! You created those fucking things! Why the hell did Mecotec even keep them around? You egoistical dumb fucks!"

Keaton flinched, his face draining to a ghostly pallor as Toni's venomous words cut deep. His hands trembled helplessly at his sides. "Toni, I—I never intended for them to be weaponized! I never thought they'd be used like this. The last few rounds weren't disposed of—they were kept in storage. We were studying them, trying to reverse their effects for soldiers who had taken them when they were younger. They were meant to help, not harm!"

"this is the exact reason half of Alleigant partiotned against this shit! You just go and take the rights away of people that wanted families and look what its done now!" Toni bellowed, his entire body vibrating with unchecked rage as his fists clenched so tightly that his nails threatened to draw blood. "We're nothing but pieces of fucking property to you! To the board! To the entire system!" His voice cracked like a whip, a wild, furious outburst that struck like a violent storm.

Keaton fought to hold his ground, his eyes silently pleading for understanding, but no words could bridge the widening chasm of betrayal.

"Toni, enough! Toni, please!" Jesse's desperate cry pierced the air as she clutched Matthew's fragile form tighter, her body trembling from both physical and emotional torment. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks. "We need to go! Matthew needs our help right now! Please, Toni!"

Toni's breath came in harsh, uneven gasps as he glanced at Matthew—barely conscious, limp in Jesse's arms, his chest rising and falling feebly. The sight of his friend's suffering intensified the tempest of fury and anguish raging within him, leaving him teetering on the knife's edge of despair and defiance.

Keaton swallowed hard, his voice breaking with remorse. "I'm so sorry—I never meant for this to happen."

Toni's head snapped toward him, his expression contorting into pure, unrelenting hatred. "Too little, too fucking late," he spat, every syllable dripping with venom. Then, with reluctant resolve, he turned back to Jesse's, wrapping his arm firmly around Matthew's waist to secure his unconscious form. "We're done," he growled. "Let's go."

Together, they vanished into the chaos, whisked away to Spear's office—a final refuge in a world now utterly torn apart, leaving Keaton alone in the suffocating silence, haunted by guilt and the irreversible destruction he had helped unleash.

****** ******

When they arrived, Spear's office was already occupied by Richie and Spear, deep in a tense, low-lit discussion before a flickering holographic screen. The harsh glow of the display threw long, troubled shadows across their faces as they absorbed the latest dire reports. In an instant, both men turned toward the entrance, startled by the unexpected arrival.

"Shit!" Richie gasped, his voice raw as he surged forward, easing the burden from Jesse's trembling arms. Every line of his face bore the strain of trying to steady Matthew's fragile body. Without hesitation, Spear led them as he forcefully pushed open the heavy double doors, revealing the plain, unassuming space of his office.

Working in unison with deliberate care, Toni and Richie transferred Matthew onto a double bed. His battered chest displayed a deep, raw incision from his recent surgery, while remnants of blood and grime clung to him—grim reminders of the chaos that had unfolded.

"What the fuck happened? Was he in surgery?" Richie asked, his gaze fixed on the deep scar etched across Matthew's chest.

Toni's voice trembled with chaotic confusion as he struggled to explain. "The crystals... they fried him. They had to reimplant his ICD," he said, his eyes momentarily betraying the unbearable truth.

"Jesus," Richie muttered in disbelief as he adjusted Matthew's position, lending every ounce of strength he had. Spear moved swiftly to secure Matthew's legs, doing his best to stabilize him amid the dire circumstances.

"Where's Mya?" Jesse snapped at Richie, urgency sharpening every word. "We need her—she's the only one who can monitor his records and check his heart for further issues. She's the only one, aside from Keaton, who can—"

Richie hesitated, his eyes narrowing in reproach as he glanced at Jesse.

"Rich?" Jesse demanded more sharply, frustration and fear lacing her tone. "He still needs proper medical attention... where is she?"

Before she could finish, Richie cut her off in a curt, final tone. "I left her at Allegiant—to keep her safe. She's not on the run, nor is Jasmine. Mac doesn't need both parents being hunted."

At that, all eyes turned toward him.

"What?" Toni demanded, confusion lacing his voice. "Say that again—seriously, repeat that!"

"She's not on the run—nor is Jasmine," Richie repeated, his tone growing harsher. "I left her at Allegiant to keep her safe. Mac doesn't need this."

Spear, unable to hide his reluctant approval, interjected with a sardonic quip, "That's the smartest shit you've ever done." Toni and Jesse exchanged incredulous, annoyed glances at his remark.

"Seriously, we're starting this shit now?" Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes thick with sarcasm. But before anyone could speak further, a raw, pained groan from Matthew filled the room, his brow furrowing in agony.

"Both of you, knock it off!" Jesse barked, pivoting to face Spear. "Do you trust any of the doctors here?" she demanded, her voice rising in anger as she glared at him. "He needs help, now!"

"Come on, sparkle," Spear smirked at the redhead.

"Do not fucking call her that," Toni growled, his voice low and edged with threat.

"Fine, so touchy," Spear shrugged, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Everyone's so touchy today with their feelings," he laughed, his mirth slicing through the tension like a razor.

"Oh, shut up!" Toni and Jesse snapped in unison.

"Just go find your fucking doctor," Richie barked, exasperation etched deep into his features as he glared at them.

Spear flashed a half-salute with a smirk before turning on his heel and disappearing to fetch assistance.  

"Fucking dick," Toni muttered, his voice dripping with contempt as he turned toward Richie—who shook his head in disbelief at Spear's callous departure—and then to Jesse. Jesse sat beside Matthew, her trembling fingers gently combing through his disheveled hair, her heart aching with every weak, broken sound that escaped him—a desperate plea for Eko, growing louder with each labored breath.

Toni's fist clenched at the sound, his muscles tensing in raw, silent fury, while Jesse's eyes locked with his—heavy with unshed tears and unspoken anguish. "Toni, no," she murmured softly, as if she already sensed the fragile state of his mind.

In that heart-wrenching instant, Toni's powers erupted uncontrollably—a wild surge of force amid the chaos. Over the tumult, Jesse's voice cut through like a desperate plea as she fixed her gaze on Richie, "Please, go after him!"

Richie nodded grimly and vanished into the fray, leaving Jesse to refocus on Matthew. His battered body still trembled with the effort of survival, and with tender, trembling fingers, she combed through his tangled hair once more, as if trying to untangle not just the knots in his locks, but the knots of pain and loss that bound them.

She hated what this had become—each passing second made the blood in her veins run ice-cold. And yet, there she sat, forced to confront the inevitable fallout, knowing that the coming devastation would tear their entire existence apart.

****** 10.55 AM******

Eko sat alone in the infirmary, though bodies lay scattered around her and the steady hum of machines mingled with the clatter of medical instruments. Multiple tests were underway—a desperate, endless effort to prove she was still physically holding together after the ordeal. While her major powers slowly began to mend, the more intricate abilities she'd completely exhausted stubbornly remained absent.

Around her, board members crowded in, their murmurs low and insistent. Eric's voice, grave and measured, instructed her to remain silent until he could confer with the others about the fallout—especially concerning the crystal she still possessed, a vessel of unfathomable power, a truth that must remain hidden at all costs.

In that sterile room, she replayed the morning over and over, trying to piece together how she could possibly repair what she had broken. Yet voices in the background insisted that she was simply comatose from trauma, assuring her that she was safe now—that she was home.

Home...

But her home was gone.

Amid the murmur of voices around her, words swirled like heavy shadows as the hazy fog of her thoughts began to lift, snapping her back into a reality she wasn't ready to face. She blinked rapidly, noticing one of the lead doctors now in the ward, with Eric standing beside him, the doctor intent on delivering a message to the room filled with board members and the royal elite.

"We have the results," the doctor announced softly. "Your Highness, I can speak to you privately or—"

"There's nothing to hide if I'm fine," she muttered, her voice distant and devoid of emotion. Her gaze drifted to the doctor in his stark white lab coat, flanked by the ever-watchful board members, their expressions unreadable as they awaited confirmation of her fate. But her attention flickered past them—to Rylan, ever-present at the doctor's side, his face a silent reminder that she was constantly being watched. Then to Eric, whose concern was palpable in his eyes as he assessed her condition.

The doctor continued in a cool, measured tone, "Your Highness, you are physically stable. Your body has, quite remarkably, corrected the situation on its own."

Confusion knitted her brow as she pushed herself up slightly. "Corrected... what situation?" she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

The doctor paused for a heartbeat before continuing with a detached finality, as if reciting routine lab results. "Given the circumstances, we believe the pregnancy was unintended. Fortunately, your body will continue to resolve the situation naturally. The discomfort and blood loss you're experiencing are expected, and they should subside soon."

The world seemed to stop. A deafening silence swallowed the room, and Eko's breath hitched as her chest tightened—as if someone had reached inside and crushed her very soul.

Her eyes darted to Eric. He stood frozen, every muscle taut, his hand pressed to his mouth as if even a whisper might shatter the fragile silence. His face was ashen, marred by sheer horror.

"Pregnant?" Eko rasped, the word barely escaping her lips, strangled by disbelief. "I'm... pregnant?"

"Your Highness, no—please rest assured," Rylan interjected, his dark, implacable gaze locking onto hers. After a long, heavy pause that allowed a fleeting moment of relief to wash over her, he continued in a measured tone, "You're definitely not pregnant anymore. The trauma from your abduction, your injuries—thankfully, your body couldn't sustain it."

The words struck like a physical blow. Something inside Eko twisted, deep and visceral, an ache she didn't have the capacity to understand yet. Her fingers curled against the blanket, gripping the fabric as if it could anchor her to reality.

Rylan turned away, his focus shifting to the doctor with ruthless precision. "Ensure none of this is recorded in her files. Her violation will not be part of the official record," he commanded, his voice as cold as steel. "Her privacy and dignity must be protected at all costs. I've already implemented the necessary measures moving forward from our end."

The doctor nodded without hesitation, his fingers tapping against his tablet in silent compliance.

Eko could only stare—at the space between them, at the sterile floor, at the crushing, gaping void where something vital had been lost. A tremor slipped into her voice, so soft and hollow it barely reached her lips. "I... was pregnant?"

It was the only thing she had heard. The only thing that mattered.

A board member stepped forward, his tone carefully measured, his words wrapped in forced gentleness. "Your Highness, please rest assured. We will provide every necessary treatment to aid your recovery. You have suffered immensely, but you are safe now—we assure you of that."

Safe.

The word echoed emptily in her mind, its promise void of any warmth.

Eko's gaze dropped to her stomach as a cold, suffocating wave of realization crashed over her. She had been pregnant—her trembling fingers pressed against her robes, as if clinging to a desperate hope that they were wrong, that her child was still growing inside her.

"It was very early, rest assured," the doctor continued clinically. "We understand this is extremely stressful for you, Your Highness."

Eko's brows furrowed as the devastating truth sank in. The future they had once dared to dream of—the tiny miracle they had hoped to bring into the world—had vanished before she even knew it existed.

Her breath hitched, a sharp, broken gasp rattling through her chest as grief surged violently within her, pressing down with such force it felt as if her ribs might splinter under its weight. "How?" she whispered, her voice raw with despair.

The single, fractured word slipped past her lips before she even realized it.

All eyes turned toward her, yet she wasn't speaking to them.

The doctor hesitated, then leaned forward slightly, his tone remaining coldly professional. "How, Your Highness?"

Eko's throat constricted with every syllable as she struggled to force the words out. "My implant..." She swallowed thickly, her hands clinging to her stomach as though trying to hold onto something already lost. "It was supposed to last until next year."

If only she had known.

If she had even suspected—she would have done anything. Fought harder. Endured more. She would have protected that life with every ounce of strength she possessed.

The doctor barely paused, skimming through his notes before nodding in clinical confirmation. When he finally spoke, his voice was detached and sterile—a recitation meant to inform, not to comfort.

"Your implant expired in late February, Your Highness," he stated, scrolling through his notes with clinical detachment. "It is fortunate that a pregnancy did not occur sooner. Typically, fertility takes time to return after long-term contraceptive use—you are extremely lucky we are within a window to rectify it without any further stress to your body."

There was no pause for sentiment, no acknowledgment of the crushing devastation settling over her like a vise.

"Given the extreme physiological stress your body endured, the miscarriage was a natural response. We will proceed with medication to ensure the process is fully completed, and we'll continue to monitor your beta-hCG levels to confirm there are no lingering traces of the pregnancy."

Final. Methodical. As if the life that had once stirred inside her were nothing more than an unwanted violation. How she had longed for that baby, how utterly important it had been to her.

They spoke around her, but Eko barely registered their words. Tears welled in her eyes and slipped silently down her cheeks as the full, aching reality of what had been taken from her sank in.

When she finally spoke, her voice was barely more than a hollow whisper, fragile and trembling. "I need to be alone." Her fingers curled tightly around the blanket, as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality. "I need time... to process this."

The doctor simply nodded, his tone brisk and professional. "Of course, Your Highness. We'll ensure you have the privacy you need." There was no hesitation, no second glance—just the efficient hum of his tablet as he entered notes, converting her grief into clinical jargon, reducing her loss to a sterile update on her condition.

The board members murmured in quiet agreement, retreating with composed nods—their concern measured purely in political terms. The sooner this was buried, the better.

Only Eric lingered.

Eko felt his presence more than she saw him; his silence was heavier than the words she'd been forced to endure. She couldn't bear to look at him, unable to meet the heartbreak she knew would shimmer in his eyes.

Her hands trembled as they pressed against her stomach, grief pressing in from all sides, suffocating her.

It had been hers. Matthew's. Theirs.

And now—just like that—their baby was gone.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying in vain to will it all away—the voices, the cold indifference, the unrelenting ache that threatened to consume her completely.

Eric took a small, hesitant step forward. "Sera—"

A strangled sob tore from her throat, raw and uncontrollable.

Eric flinched, his face twisting with a mix of fear and sorrow—not just for her, but for the inevitable fallout. He could not imagine what would happen if Matthew ever learned that she had lost their child.

Her sobs grew harder, fractured and gasping, her breath slipping uncontrollably as the room tilted around her—its edges closing in, suffocating and drowning her in despair.

Then, without warning, the overhead lights flickered, and the room exploded with a sudden burst of energy. A blinding glow flooded the space, crackling against the darkness she felt, and just as quickly, it faded—leaving two figures standing in its wake.

Toni and Richie stood before her, their expressions shifting from guarded exhaustion to something far more animalistic, something that set her on guard with how they were both looking at her.

Eko inhaled sharply, forcing herself upright. The paper-thin hospital gown clung to her as her bare feet felt the icy bite of the cold floor. Her red-rimmed eyes darted between the two men, desperate for answers.

"Eko?" Richie's voice was softer than ever, his cautious steps cutting through the lingering haze of her despair. His concern was palpable, yet she could only stare, lost in her own anguish.

"Are you both alright?" Eric asked, his voice heavy with worry as he shifted his gaze between their battle-worn faces.

No one answered. In that suffocating silence, it was clear—none of them were ever going to be alright after this.

Without a word, Toni stepped forward and tossed a spare crystal onto the bed. The dull clink of its landing sent a ripple of unease through Eko's chest. Her eyes flickered between the softly glowing shard and the two men standing before her, confusion and dread coiling around her like a vice.

"What is this?" she whispered, her voice trembling as terror tightened its grip on her.

"Power for Isadora," Toni replied flatly. "You can use it to have SIO transferred here. The crystal will create the barrier."

Eko shook her head slowly, struggling to piece together his words. "I don't understand."

Toni scoffed, his tone sharp and laced with barely contained hatred. "The crystal, Your Highness," he spat.

Eko flinched at the title, her stomach twisting painfully. "Toni, don't call me that," she pleaded, her voice cracking. "Please. Why are you giving this to me? Matthew had it—where is he? Where is Matthew?"

Richie, always the calmer one, exhaled softly yet gravely. "Eko, haven't you heard? We're being tried as war criminals because of the courts."

"What?" Eric interjected, his eyes darting sharply between Richie and Toni, confusion etched across his face.

"They want us to stand trial," Richie continued steadily, his gaze shifting between Eric and Eko. "They claim you were abducted—kidnapped— they've dredged up every bit of our history. The footage from the city... they know we're crystal warriors. We can't stay here. We just can't anymore."

Eko's heart thundered in her ears as their words crashed over her. "No... no, this is insane," she pleaded, her voice shattering with raw desperation. "Richie... Toni—where is Matthew? I need to see him. Please, I'll go with you—I'll fix this, I swear—just let me talk to him and figure out what to do next!"

Before she could utter another word, Toni's voice sliced through the air like a razor. "You're not coming anywhere fucking near him! You've done enough damage for one day!"

Eko stiffened, her breath catching in her throat. "What?" she demanded, her voice trembling as she tried to process the venom in his words.

"Your orders are to stay here and keep your damn mouth shut! That's it—you have nothing to do with us, and we sure as hell don't have anything to do with you!" Toni roared, his tone raw and seething with barely contained rage.

Before he could continue, Richie stepped in, slamming a steady hand onto Toni's chest. "Toni, calm the fuck down—this isn't her fault."

"Not her fault?!" Toni exploded, shoving Richie aside with such force that it sent him stumbling. His entire body vibrated with pent-up fury as he turned on Eko, his trembling finger accusingly pointed at her. "You just tore our fucking family apart!"

A pulse of raw power snapped through the air like lightning—and in an instant, Toni was gone.

Eko and Eric stood frozen, shock rendering them motionless, their mouths agape in disbelief.

Richie exhaled sharply, his head rolling back in frustrated resignation. "For fuck's sake..." he muttered before turning to Eko, his expression softer than Toni's—no less pained, but weighed down with something heavier, something resigned.

"I know I'm asking a lot," Richie began, his voice rough and measured as he locked eyes with Eko. "But I left Mya, Mac, and Jaz at Allegiant. I need you to take them with you—watch over them. I can't let Mya be blamed for being with me."

Eko blinked, her mind still reeling. "Blamed? Richie, what do you mean?" her voice trembled with a desperate mix of fear and confusion.

Richie's jaw clenched, his patience fraying. "Eko, turn on the TV. Just watch—see for yourself." His tone was flat, yet the exhaustion in his eyes spoke volumes. "We're done. Completely fucking done."

A deep, gnawing dread coiled in Eko's chest. "What...?" she whispered, her breath uneven as the weight of something catastrophic pressed down on her. She hadn't even seen the news; she had no idea what they were saying about them.

Richie exhaled sharply, his urgency bordering on despair. "Seriously, Eko—turn on the TV. See for yourself," he commanded, his voice harsh and laced with grim finality. "And listen to me, Toni has a point to this—keep your head down. If they sense your power, they'll come after you too. Don't use your magic. Don't be stupid." His own energy pulsed around him, restless and charged with a fierce warning. "Just agree to what they're saying... protect yourself until Matthew tells us the game plan."

"Stop! Wait!" Eko pleaded, her voice cracking as panic surged. "No, please—where are you going? No, no, no—I'm coming with you! You are my only family, please! I want to be with you—I can't be left here! Please, please don't leave me here!"

Richie's expression hardened, regret flickering in his eyes before he forced his gaze away. "Sera, this isn't your place," he said quietly but firmly. "Jesus... it's here." His eyes shifted to Eric, locking onto him with a silent command. "Fuck, she's in your care now."

Then, softening just a fraction as he turned back to her and murmured the one request that sent chills down her spine. "Keep my girls safe, please. Mya will hate me for this, but it's the only way I can protect her... and our daughter. Please."

Before she could say another word, before she could beg him to stay, Richie vanished.

Eko felt her world collapse around her. Tears streamed down her face, hot and unrelenting, each drop carving deep into the hollow void of everything she had lost. Overwhelmed by grief, she could barely breathe, her body trembling as the crushing weight of betrayal and despair threatened to pull her under.

Then—Eric was there. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her in a tight, desperate embrace. And in that moment, as she clung to him, it hit her—this was it. The end of everything she had ever loved.

****** *****

In the suffocating gloom of his domain, the Beast emerged—darkness cascading from him in relentless waves, an elemental force more primal than mere presence. His gaze swept over the ruined chamber, falling with contempt upon Isis, Cid, and Xero, who barely clung to their feet—bodies wrecked, bloodied, and utterly humiliated.

"What a fucking disappointment you three have become," he snarled, his voice coiled with venom. Without waiting for excuses or explanations, he dismissed them with a single, disdainful glance. They had failed him.

With one final look of sheer disgust, he turned on his heel and vanished into the abyss, his mind already racing toward the next phase. He would uncover what had disrupted the paradox, what had weakened the magic—what had caused his plans to unravel. And when he did, nothing would stand in his way.

In any revolution, survival demands unwavering dedication against insurmountable odds—hesitation is death. In a heartbeat, the tide can turn, and amid the chaos, hope can ignite the spark that fuels an inferno of a rebellion. Chaos, you see, does not simply spread—it devours, spiraling outward until it consumes everything in its path, leaving only devastation and ruin in its wake.